


you are my mountain, you are my sea

by reformedcharacter



Series: love can last forever, between you and me [1]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Fluff, M/M, Single Parents, just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 07:33:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16511963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reformedcharacter/pseuds/reformedcharacter
Summary: Robert sighs and scoots down his seat, his shoulders hunched over as he slouches in the chair he bought to support his back, he doesn’t want to think about the irony of that right now. Not when Mr or Mrs Dingle is over twenty minutes late.or, robert is a young teacher, aaron is a young parent. their paths collide at the school parent's evening.





	you are my mountain, you are my sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imgoingcrazy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imgoingcrazy/gifts).



> for mal.

Robert’s first parent’s evening is turning out to be a stressful one. He’s pushed his desk, that is normally situated in the corner of the room, closer to the center of the room, nearer to the display his year threes made; ripped blue paper covered in glitter and the vague outlines of sea life covering every inch of the thin display board underneath his neatly cut out ‘Life in the Ocean’ title. He’d been particularly proud of them that day. 

Despite this only being his first year of teaching, he’s already well respected by children and staff alike. His classroom is full to the brim of colour, his children’s work proudly displayed on all available space. There’s a beanbag in the corner, much to the headteacher’s dismay, for his children to sit if they need a time away from the loud rocus that is their class. Year two is his favourite, the rambunctious six year olds still loud and energetic, but able to hold a somewhat comprehensible conversation with their teacher; the beginnings of their solar system projects fill the cupboard towards the back of the room. 

He toys with his tie, his fingers shaking as they push the fabric unnecessarily into his adam’s apple. He normally doesn’t wear a tie to work; the children too careless with pots of acrylic paint and black ink to let them near his good clothes, so he feels slightly out of place in his own classroom. He glances up towards the clock that hangs on the wall by the closed door, a bright yellow sun, and painted black eyes stare back at him through the ticking hands as it tips over to four pm.

Robert’s met with four mothers and one father already. Their hands gripping their children’s hand tightly as they enter the room, a tight smile on thin lips as they glance at Robert, their eyes flicking up and down in shook as they take in his youthful appearance. Lily Mallard’s mother, a forty-five year old woman with a blonde bob and white pearls around her neck, dropped her daughter’s hand and took Robert’s in hers, shaking tightly with a firm grip and neatly manicured nails.

He’s still got around fifteen to go; he’ll smile and shake their hands, before nodding towards the children and sticking his tongue out, eliciting a small giggle from them and a look of confusion from their parents. He’ll report their children’s progress with as much as interest as he can muster towards standardised testing, which granted isn’t much, before moving on. He’ll discuss their behaviour; all good, with one exception being little Oscar Dingle who, despite his insistence he can fix it afterwards, needs to stop throwing toy cars at the walls, or at Felicity Jones, for that matter. But fortunately, he’s booked in last. 

He throws his neck back, his shoulders tight with tension, and his joints click as he stretches his arms out in front of him. He’s got marking to do when he leaves here, year six practice tests, and would quite happily spend his evening lying in the middle of a busy road instead of ticking those small boxes with a green pen, as he shovels slowly cooling chicken chowmein into his mouth. His insistence to get through university with the highest marks as quickly as possible, as satisfying as it is, has led to several lonely nights in. 

He sighs heavily as a knock sounds at the door before opening to reveal a couple, both roughly in their thirties, with quiet Marie stood in between them. Robert pushes himself up from his chair, and with a small smile plastered on his face, greets them with a shake of their hands and a tongue sticking out at their daughter. 

 

\---

 

Robert sighs and scoots down his seat, his shoulders hunched over as he slouches in the chair he bought to support his back, he doesn’t want to think about the irony of that right now. Not when Mr or Mrs Dingle is over twenty minutes late.

Oscar Dingle is newer to the school than Robert is, the five year old joining when Robert was comfortably two months into his time at Hotten Primary. He’d entered like a whirlwind, a blur of noise and laughter mixed with tears and tantrums. In all honesty, Oscar is Robert’s favourite, but right now he wishes he’d never moved here. 

The clock sluggishly ticks over to half past. Robert rhythmically taps the end of his pen against the notepad in front of him and glances out of the window. The sun is setting, only the faint remains of sunlight trickles through the thick cloud against the pink and orange sky. Susie, the school nurse, catches his eye in the carpark and she raises a small wrinkled hand up to wave at him. He nods towards her, already accepting his fate of being here all evening, when the door crashes behind him. 

“I am so sorry I’m late.” 

A harassed looking man rushes into the room, his face flushed pink and chest rising and falling heavily as he struggles to breathe. He doesn’t look much younger than Robert himself, perhaps only twenty-three or so, but he clutches young Oscar’s hand in his with a grip only a father could have. 

“Mr Dingle?” Robert asks, slowly lifting himself off his chair and shuffling around his desk, reaching his hand out, which the man takes and shakes once before nodding.

“Aaron,” He says, the red tint not leaving his cheeks, and tilts his head towards his son, “You obviously know Oscar.” 

Oscar grins wildly at Robert from his position by his father’s side, he has traces of what Robert presumes is chocolate pudding around his lips and by the collar of his Paw Patrol hoodie. “Hi Mr Sugden!” He shouts, words slurring together slightly, and spins himself around using his father’s hand above him, obviously already bored. 

“Y’alright, mate?” Robert asks, before directing Aaron to the chair by his desk, “If you want to play with the class toys while me and your dad talk about the boring stuff, you know where it is.” 

Without replying, Oscar tears himself away from Aaron’s side and heads towards the basket near the children’s workbooks and pulls out his favourite toy truck. 

“Again,” Aaron says, taking a seat, “So sorry we’re late, his mum was late to drop him off at mine.” 

“You’re separated?” Normally, Robert would feel overly nosey prying in Aaron’s personal life, but he feels as though he should have been made aware of this sooner; Oscar having never hinted towards his parents’ lives. 

Aaron nods and smiles knowingly, “Never together, really. As much as I love Osc’, sleeping with his mum to prove I wasn’t gay wasn’t my smartest move.” 

“Ah.” Robert says, unusually lost for words as he blushes and glances down at Oscar’s records. He’d organised his papers in the wait for his last appointment to arrive, and now he regrets not having something to do with his trembling hands. He’s sure Aaron’s noticed the small bisexual pride flag taped onto the back of his computer.

“So, how’s ‘e doing?” Aaron asks, thankfully changing the subject before Robert makes this awkward with more stuttering. 

Robert jumps at the chance to talk about something he’s comfortable with, “He’s an absolute joy. He’s so intelligent, and not ‘ _ just for his age’ _ ” Robert tells him, fingers raised in mocking air quotes as the sarcasm drips from his voice. “He’s so inquisitive, he wants to know about anything and everything, and that’s a wonderful trait for a child to have.” 

Aaron smiles wildly, Robert’s heart stutters slowly in his chest as he notices the younger man’s dimples, and flicks his eyes over to his son in the corner of the room. “At his old school, they said he was a disruption.” 

Robert laughs quietly under his breath, “Well, honestly, yes he is.  _ But _ , only because he isn’t afraid to ask questions. He wants a deeper understanding of meaning to what we discuss in lessons, and yes, he talks a lot, but he gets the other kids to actually listen to him, and they start to care more, too.” As Robert speaks, the hunch in Aaron’s back begins to straighten, and a glow fills his eyes that was missing before.

“No one ever put it like that.” 

“Well, no one’s ever had a teacher like me.” Robert winks, and this time Aaron laughs under his breath, rolling his eyes slowly, but the pink tint suddenly reappears over his cheeks and the tip of his ears. Pale skin peeks out from underneath his thick beard, and Robert’s fingers itch to push through it. Instead, he pushes them under his thighs. 

“He did really well in his tests too, absolutely no worries there.” Robert rushes out, glancing back at the papers. “The only issue is the throwing.” 

Aaron rolls his eyes again, but this time in frustration, “I’m working on it, I really am. I don’t even know where he got it from, he just started doing it one day.” 

Robert coughs loudly, the thunderous croak erupting from his chest, and Aaron raises his eyebrows at him. 

“He once told me that you’re a mechanic.” 

Aaron nods, “Yeah, work in ‘me uncle’s garage, what does that matter?” 

“He said you fixed broken cars, so I think he started throwing them and trying to fix them, and I don’t know,” Robert flounders, “Be more like you?”

Aaron looks back at Robert and looks as though he’s had the breath punched out of him. His eyes move around the room without focusing on one spot, and Robert notices the tears pooling in his tear ducts. 

“You okay?” Robert asks,  _ he’s really not good at this _ , he thinks.

Aaron nods his head, the movement so fast it’s barely noticeable, and sniffs, “Yeah, just, never thought he saw me like that. I’m young, y’know, so I don’t really know what I’m doing, thought he was just putting up wi’ me because he don’t know better.” 

Robert chuckles, “Believe me, Aaron. In this job I see plenty of sh- not good parents.” Aaron manages a small wet laugh at Robert’s correction of his language in front of Oscar, “He loves you to pieces, you’re doing great.” 

Aaron smiles wildly and digs into his pocket, removing a piece of torn tissue paper displaying small cartoon puppies on the edges, and dabs his eyes roughly. “Cheers, mate. Bet most parents don’t cry on you though, do they?”

Despite himself, Robert chuckles again, and leans back in his chair, “There’s always a first time for everything.” 

“You’re the nicest teacher he’s ever had, you’re well young though.” 

Robert shrugs, “Twenty six, breezed through university.” 

“Sure you did.” 

“Hey, I might have!” Robert protests loudly. Oscar turns his head in brief curiosity, before returning back to his toy. 

“I never even made it through A-levels, you’re doing a whole world better than me.”

“Not sure about that, you’re raising a pretty great kid. And I’m his teacher, this is the part where I’m normally supposed to slag him off.” He teases.

“Only twenty two though, made a tonne of mistakes with ‘im.” 

Robert shrugs, “Everyone does, just because you’re younger doesn’t mean you’re not a brilliant man.” Robert stutters as he realises his error, he meant brilliant  _ dad _ , but continues, “He thinks the world of you.” 

Aaron ducks his head in embarrassment, the messy curls on top his head bouncing slightly with the movement. He glances back at Robert through his eyelashes, the bright blue a stark contrast to his pale skin and dark hair. Robert reaches over and grabs his pen tightly. Robert’s aware that he’s attractive, he’s been hit on by enough single mothers to  _ know _ , but the way Aaron’s gaze roams over Robert’s body sets his nerves on fire.

They stare at each other for a few moments, the pair taking it in turns to blink, before Aaron sighs, tilting his head and directing his gaze to behind Robert. Robert suddenly remembering Oscar is still in the room, unaware of the tension building between them.

“Oscar, bud. Time to go.” He smiles towards his son. 

Robert stands, quickly followed by Aaron, and looks around the room as if searching for words to say. He finally settles on:

“It was lovely to meet you, Mr Dingle.” Robert sticks his hand out once more. This time, Aaron’s grip is tight, but his fingers feel soft on the back of Robert’s hand, and they linger. Their eyes meeting between them, Robert gulps as Oscar reappears by Aaron’s side. 

“Did Mr Sugden tell you I’ve been good, daddy?” Oscar asks, blinking slowly up at his father. 

“He did. We’ll see if nanna will get you some ice cream when we see her later, yeah? Since you’ve been so good.” 

Oscar nods his head vigorously, the smile permanently on his face somehow growing even wider. 

“Say bye.”

“Bye, Mr Sugden!” He shouts before tugging on Aaron’s hand. 

“Bye, Oscar. See you on Monday.” He smiles. “Goodbye, Aaron.” His smile wavers, and matches the unsure expression on Aaron’s face. 

“Bye.” And with a small nod, they leave. 

He turns around and turns off his computer screen before bending over and retrieving his bag from underneath the desk, when he hears loud footsteps behind him. He turns around quickly and finds Aaron stood mere centimetres away from him. This close, Robert can see the moles and freckle that adorn Aaron’s face in their glory. They’re only faint but they decorate his eyes and cheeks in a similar way to Robert’s own freckles; he wants to trace his fingers over them all.

He doesn’t get chance to speak before Aaron is pressing his lips to Robert’s quickly. It’s a soft press of their lips, over as fast as it began, but the colliding of their lips is enough to send Robert’s heart rate skyrocketing and his palms sweaty. Robert’s hands hang limply in the air, fingers clutching the air in his shock, but Aaron’s reach for Robert’s biceps and cling tightly to his shirt. Aaron’s chapped lips pull away and Robert can’t help but try and chase them.

“You wanna go on a date sometime?” He murmurs, lips far away enough that Robert already misses their absence.

Robert nods, and brushes his lips against Aaron’s again, It turns out to be a pretty good parent's evening.

‘On school grounds’ be damned. 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @frecklysugden!


End file.
